


Make Your Move on Me

by mindsu



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindsu/pseuds/mindsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey can't stop worrying about Ian ever since he nearly cut Kenyatta's throat. He decides to forget about his own rules and do whatever's needed to help his boyfriend. Even if it means talking to Lip about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Move on Me

Mickey's not the type to confess his feelings. He's not the type to show his feelings. Actually, not even the type to acknowledge them.

He wanders around the house for two days straight after the ‘incident’ with Ian- walking around cursing under his breath, yelling at his fucking wife (who can’t keep that damn baby quiet) and keeping an eye on Kenyatta- who is, for some unknown reason, still alive. He doesn’t talk to Mandy about it again- he tried, but she told him to piss off. They were raised to take care of themselves and he knows she’d be able to get rid of her boyfriend in an hour, if she wanted. She decided to keep him around and Mickey for once decides to respect that- although he wants to bash his head in, especially for driving Ian to the edge. He can’t stop thinking about it, and he can’t get his head around it. Ian’s been acting strangely ever since he came back from the army, Mickey can’t deny that. But even with all that considered he never imagined Ian would snap so quickly and nearly cut someone’s throat. Mickey’s not the type to solve problems with talking, which is why he struggles to approach Ian. Talking means showing his feelings; showing he cares. And that's too dangerous- the last time he felt comfortable enough to be himself it resulted in him getting married with a Russian whore a week later, and Ian leaving for the army shortly after.

Two days spent in the house set his mind straight, weirdly. He tries to stay away from Alibi, ordering Svetlana to take money she needs from Kev- after all he’s still not over the man stealing  _his_  money. He knows he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from punching Kevin- which could easily result in shooting and people would end up dead. The last thing he needs right now is more problems. There’re many things he needs to take care of, but strangely the only one going through his head is Ian. The last time he saw him was three days ago, when he left in a hurry, saying Frank was dying _and_ getting married. Mickey demanded an explanation, but Ian just laughed it off while shouting something that made no sense. Gallaghers are weird, he concluded for what must’ve been the millionth time.

 

He sits at the kitchen table, counting money the Russians made the day before, while smoking a cigarette. It’s not much (he has much bigger plans for the business in the future), but it’s better than in the weeks before. He finally managed to convince them they had to charge the price they agreed on, taught them to invite costumers to come again (fucking Russians not speaking a word of English) and putting Svetlana in charge. Weirdly they work well together. He’s planning everything and she keeps whores in check, which works, until she demands more money or _she’ll tell Teddy_. Whenever she mentions his father he wants to pull out his gun and shut her up. He tries not to think about Teddy. Tries to enjoy life until the day the devil will return.

“Yo, Mandy!” he shouts from the table, licking the cigarette between his lips. He must talk about it, he reminds himself. He must figure out what’s up with Ian. A thin figure shows up in the corner of the room and he looks up. Mandy’s eye’s still black, but she’s wearing long sleeves so it’s impossible to tell whether there’re any new bruises on her body. Mickey clenches his fists, crushing the money in his hand, but it keeps him from standing up and killing Kenyatta right away. He inhales the smoke, squinting his eyes. “Been to Gallaghers’ lately?” he asks, just like it’s a normal question. She crosses arms on her chest, rolling eyes so far back he thinks she might pass out.

“No, I haven’t seen Ian since he came here. And you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? For not talking to him.” Mickey raises his hands in the air, causing some money to fall on the ground, as he speaks with cigarette still in his mouth.

“The fuck did I do wrong?” She shakes her head and turns around.

“Seriously, you’re a fucking idiot,” she mutters while walking away.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one DATING THE GUY WHO BEAT ME UP!” She only lifts both middle fingers in the air, still facing away from him. He throws the money and the cigarette on the table muttering: “Fuck,” under his breath and rushing to the front door.

“Where you goin’?” one of the Russian chicks who currently takes care of the baby yells after him. He pulls his coat on and leaves without replying. He doesn’t have to answer to anyone, especially not to one of his wife’s bitches. He’s a free man and can do anything he wants.

 

It takes him fifteen minutes to arrive to the Gallaghers’ house. It looks empty, like no one’s home. He decides to enter through the back door which is always open. The second he steps into the house he notices Lip behind the counter, fixing some food. He glances at Mickey for a second, before looking back to the food in front of him.

“Ian’s not home,” he replies soon after, but Mickey steps inside and closes the door behind himself.

“I know.” He’s biting his lip, fingers in his pocket brushing the metal of small revolver he always carries around.

“Yeah, well, he’s not coming back ‘till dawn.”

“I know,” he repeats, licking his lips. That finally gains Lip’s attention and he looks up, raising his eyebrows and leaning head to the side, while brushing his hands into the dirty jeans he’s wearing.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here then?” Mickey’s eyes rush all across the room, hands pushing deeper in his pockets.

“I came to talk.”

“You.. You what?” Lip asks almost immediately, shaking his head in surprise.

“What, are you deaf, Gallagher?!” Lip keeps his eyes fixed on the other guy, still suspicious of his actions. He knows Ian’s fucking him, he’s seen plenty of proof in the last years, what even in the last week. He doesn’t look away, but picks up the knife from the counter and continues with cutting the pickles.

“If it’s about Kev, I don’t know where he is.”

“Wha-..” Mickey stops mid-sentence, making a grimace while shaking his head. “NO, of course it’s not about..” He stops, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I wanna talk Ian.” That makes Lip step away from the counter, walk around it and approach Mickey, so they’re standing only a few feet away. Mickey measures the knife in blonde’s hand.

“You wanna talk Ian? So.. Uh, you wanna fucking talk about how he.. How he left because you got married?” He raises his hand in front of his face, waving the knife around. It’s not a threatening action- he would’ve done it without the knife in his hand, but Mickey still grips the revolver in his pocked. He knows he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment if the worst happened. “Or.. Or you wanna explain to me why the fuck you didn’t try to stop him when he decided to leave for army?”

“Do I fucking look like his keeper?”

“I don’t give a shit. He left and we didn’t know where he was for weeks! And now he’s back and.. and, uh, he’s.. he’s not himself.” He holds the knife in front of Mickey’s face, before turning on his heels and walking back to the counter. Mickey’s tight grip on the gun relaxes again.

“Eh.. So..” He bites his lip, eyes checking the room as if he was nervous. He is, in a way. Talking and worrying is not _exactly_ his area. “You think he acts strangely lately?”

“I don’t even know.. You’re the one fucking him, you tell me.” Lip continues with preparing the sandwiches without looking up. Mickey nearly pulls his gun out (because honestly, who the fuck says such things out loud?), but then someone opens the door and walks _directly_ into him. He turns around, annoyed, checking who it is. It’s Debbie.

“Oh.. Hi,” she mutters, looking at Mickey for a moment before closing the door and putting her coat on the hanger. “Hey, Lip,” she says then, walking into the kitchen and observing the food on the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

“Hi, Debs. Just sandwiches, I have evening classes and this is the only thing I could steal at work.”

“It’s okay. I think there are still some leftovers from last night, so we’re good.” She smiles then and heads upstairs without glancing back at Mickey, who’s now standing only a foot away from the counter. He pulls out a stool and sits down, legs wide apart, hand resting on one knee.

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with him. It’s just.. I don’t fucking know,” Lip adds into the silence, shaking his head. Mickey can see he’s worried and he can understand that. They stay silent for a while, both busy with their own thoughts. “He’s not well, but I can’t do anything.. For fuck’s sake, Frank’s _seriously_ dying now, Fiona’s barely keeping her shit together, uh, Carl’s girlfriend is trouble on legs, Debbie.. yeah, well, she’s the one who’s still thinking clearly and Liam.. Well, fuck knows what’s with him..” He’s shaking his head the entire time, finally putting the knife down and looking at Mickey, both hands on the counter. “As much as I want to, I don’t have time to help Ian right now. It fucking sucks, I know, but.. His problems seem the least important right now.” He stops there then, making a grimace and stepping back, confused as why he’s shared all that with Mickey fucking Milkovich. He must be catching a fever. “Jesus,” he mutters, placing the sandwiches on the plate then calling: “Dinner!” so loud Mickey nearly falls off the stool. “Listen, I don’t fucking know what’s going on with him, to give you a concrete answer. Now I gotta go- classes.” Mickey hears people rushing down the stairs and he’s on his feet in one second, out of the house in the next.

 

He lights himself a cigarette as soon as he’s back on the street, slowly walking in the direction of his house. Ian is acting strangely and as much as he’s shrugging it off Mickey doesn’t believe the act _‘it’s all fine’_. He wants to help him, but has no idea how. It’s getting dark and therefore it means Ian’s shift’s about to start. He considers heading back home, but changes his mind in the last second, deciding to go see Ian at work. He’s done it many times before, and even though there’s nothing he hates as much as the glances of _old_ faggots, he’s willing to live through it again.

For **Ian**.


End file.
